221B Baker Street
by Blackwolfhunting
Summary: From pain to angst to love and hope. There's so much in life that many ignore and that many suffer from, but all of it should be enjoyed and loved no matter the circumstance. All of it shapes us and in the end, our reaction will shape those around us as well. Oneshot compilation. Slash/bromance/rape/abuse are all mentioned or used.
1. Stress

Chapter One

Stress

To say that that day had been one hell of a day would have been a flat and complete lie. John would dare anyone to try and tell him that because he would look at them and tell them it was ten times worse than that and that they had no clue what true hell even looked like.

He lived with Sherlock Holmes after all.

But to have both he and Sherlock ripped out of their bed by one DI Lestrade who had stomped into their flat and dragged them down to Scotland Yard to be debriefed and have their statements written down from an investigation.

An investigation that had been solved by Sherlock himself.

Normally they didn't have to do all of this at the Yard but for some reason the DI was in a foul mood and wouldn't allow them to do so. Because of that he had dragged them out of their home at five in the goddamn morning.

Not only that but John had suffered severe nightmares that other night and had to stay up a good portion of the night between waking and then falling asleep to his nightmares once more. Even with Sherlock playing his violin, his nightmares had not abated for one reason or another the night before.

And to add onto that annoyance, it was raining and freezing cold when he woke up to Lestrade yelling for the two of them to get up.

Unfortunately Sherlock had just gotten up and left with the DI, forcing John to follow behind as well.

In a foul mood.

So he was sure that his attitude would be forgiven as soon as Sergeant Donovan opened her mouth.

"The Freak is back." She sneered at the Consulting Detective as if he was a bug on the bottom of her new and expensive high heeled shoes. "What does he want now?"

John clenched his jaw as he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking from how tightly clenched he had them.

"To fill out their statements on the last case and capture of the suspect." Lestrade grouched out as he ushered the two towards his office. Sherlock had placed himself behind John so that he would be the last to leave the room. Normally the man was right at the front of the line but this time he was staying behind John.

Which irritated the veteran even more for reasons he could not fathom.

"Good, get the freak away from us normal hard working cops." Donovan spat at three of them.

That's it. He'd had enough.

He turned on his heel and marched over to Donavan, avoiding Sherlock's reaching grasp to his arm as he did so. "You want to say that again?" John growled as he got into the woman's face forcefully.

"Say what again?" She questioned with a frown and a flickered glance behind him, most likely to Lestrade to see what he wanted her to do.

"That Sherlock Holmes, the man that Scotland Yard calls on to do their damn jobs for them, is a freak that should go and disappear." John snarled as he began to back the woman backwards just by walking forwards. They didn't come to a stop until her back was to a wall. "That he's a freak that shows up the half assed officers here all of the time because you can't do your jobs without being led by the damn nose."

The entire building fell silent as John's face began to turn a dark red in rage and Donovan's own face began to pale incredibly. "We….we can….can do this without the damned freak." She spat as she got herself under control and regained her ability to fight back. Despite everything, she would not be scared of an invalided soldier that followed the freak around like a puppy.

"Really, because Lestrade calling him up at all hours of the damn day says otherwise!" John spat right back at the woman. "In fact! I bet you couldn't go a damned week without his help to solve a murder! That's how bloody brilliant he is! And how utterly incompetent you are!" He shouted as he took a step back to avoid the smell of Donavan's breath. He knew that smell. "That and he doesn't need to run away and hide in a bloody broom closet to get his coworker off." He snarked.

Donovan's face went pale once more as her eyes flickered to where Anderson stood near her desk, his face turning a bright red.

"John." Sherlock called as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"No." John whirled to look at the consulting detective and pointed his finger at the man with a glare. "If they have to treat you like a piece of trash every time you come in to assist them with a murder that they asked you to help with, than they will not get you! I will move you to a place that will appreciate what you bring than to continue to stay where you are treated like shit and an unwanted toy." He was practically yelling at this point as his temper finally frayed into an all-out explosion.

"I do not car-" Sherlock started to say.

"I do care!" John cut off. "You are not a dog that can be abused into doing what they want it to do and then expect to hunt for them! You are not a weapon that can be thrown into a closet and forgotten about until it's useful again!" He exclaimed in anger. "You, despite everything you or anyone else say, are still a human goddamn being! You aren't god or a machine! You deserve to be treated with respect like any normal human being and more so because your a sight better than that useless lump of adultering piece of shit!" John pointed behind him at Donovan.

Sherlock stared at John with his normal calm gaze for a long moment before turning around to look at an amused looking Lestrade. "We will be leaving. You can come to 221B Baker Street later for our statements." He stated before turning back to John and guiding him out of Scotland Yard by the arm.

It was only when they were in a taxi on their way back to their flat that Sherlock spoke.

"I do not care what they think of me." He stated as he looked out the window at the landscape of the busy London Streets.

"You don't but that doesn't mean they can say what they say." John snapped as he looked at his friend. His best and greatest friend. Someone that had given him his life back.

"You are sleep deprived."

"No, I'm pissed off."

"Because you did not sleep."

"Screw fucking sleep! You seem to survive just fine without it."

"Because I do not need sleep to function properly. That is not what we are talking about at the moment."

John growled as he threw his hands up in the air. "I don't care Sherlock! Besides, what I said was true! You help them out when they need it and they all treat you like crap." He growled as he remembered all the insults and the degrading insinuations they had made about the other man.

"It does not matter John." Sherlock said as he turned to look at him.

"Why's that?"

"Because I have you to tell me otherwise."

John blinked at the man before a large smile over took his face and his entire body relaxed.

He felt warm and happy for the first time in what seemed ever.

He doesn't remember anything after that but waking up on the couch while Sherlock played his violin.

221B Baker Street

A.N. Okay so this is basically my attempt at oneshots for Sherlock series. I thought this would be fun. Just whatever comes to mind and whatever I feel like writing about. So this will be marked as complete for the foreseeable future. Cause I never know when I'll add on to it or if I will. Most likely will though since I have several shots I want to write.

Some will seem to be connected and others will be connected. I'll try and remember to write a notice if chapters are connected or not.

So review and tell me what you think about this first chapter. I want to know what you think and maybe you guys can give me some ideas for oneshots as well. I would love to write things with different ideas. So yeah, give me ideas to go off of though you might not get what you think you are.

I would like everyone to think about some of the authors on Fanfiction that died recently or a while ago. Some of them died in tragic accidents or illnesses and have left stories unfinished or had others finish them for them in memory. I would like everyone reading this to lower their heads, clasp their hands together and pray for those who have been lost. Allow there to be a moment of silence for wherever you, the reader, are and remember not just the writers here on this site but those who have been lost in your life or in tragic events.

Please remember that life is short and that you should love those in your life while you can and show your appreciation for water comes into your life.

Again, thanks to those who have lost their lives for spreading inspiration through their works.


	2. Cat and Mouse

Chapter Two

Cat and Mouse

His limp was an annoyance that he despised.

He always had and more so now.

After the Fall- and yes the title was capitalized- his limp had returned with vengeance. He didn't bother going to see a therapist about it and he had stopped going to see his old one a long time ago. He knew it wasn't going to go away ever again.

He was stuck.

But that hadn't stopped him from running…limping his way around the city that was London. Especially as murders still happened and Scotland Yard was useless even more so without Sherlock. Though Lestrade could sometimes solve a mystery on his own, help had always been appreciated.

Even if the help was from a high functioning Sociopath.

Now Lestrade only had John to help him and neither of the two of them were as fast as the old Consulting Detective. But together they could solve crimes without too much of a problem.

Lestrade would do most of the leg work while John used his contacts for more information. They normally found what they wanted that way.

John, though, knew that would end soon.

It was why he had left his flat with Miss Hudson and escorted her to one of her many friends in the city. He made sure that she wouldn't be returning to the flat anytime soon.

He had made sure that Lestrade was at Scotland Yard catching up on paperwork and Mycroft was out of the country.

Two and a half years since the Fall and now it was time for John to play catch up.

He came to a stop outside of 221 Baker Street and looked up at the old building, leaning heavily against his cane.

His home. The home that had him and Sherlock in it with Mrs. Hudson just below. The explosions, the gunshots, the clients, the drug busts. It had all been a part of his home for so long.

It was one of the best places for him to die in.

Happily so.

Two and a half years since Sherlock fell.

That was when his limp had come back and when the game of cat and mouse had begun.

Jim Moriarty had died that day on the roof.

Sebastian Moran had lost his boss that day and had decided to exact his revenge on the only man left alive from The Game.

He had taken the shot at John but the old soldier had been hustled into the building and so the shot had missed. By pure lock.

John had instantly knew what was going on.

A Sherlock moment, he called it.

His friend had jumped to save his life and that had almost been wasted because his limp and the shock from watching his friend fall and then dead on the pavement had almost paralyzed him completely. Jim Moriarty's web of connections had been wide and John knew without a doubt that the man had found a competent sniper to take him out.

So John hadn't wasted time and had gone instantly to Mycroft.

He had hit the man first, slamming his fist satisfyingly into the man's nose and breaking it.

And then he had explained how Sherlock had been forced to jump because he had a sniper on him and most likely Mrs. Hudson and a few others as well. Those Snipers had been what forced his friend to jump.

Mycroft had stared at him in bewilderment, a look that John took satisfaction in causing, before instantly getting to work.

The snipers that had been on Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade had been found and captured.

The sniper that had been on him had disappeared.

From there John had begun to enhance his abilities at observing and had used all of that practice to help Lestrade capture murderers.

All the while tracking down his shooter.

Between him, Mycroft, and Lestrade, they had found out that Sebastian Moran had been the sniper hired to kill John Watson.

A solider that had been honorably discharged after he had hit a IED while in tour in Afghanistan and lost his right leg.

And just like John, the man had been thrown into a Military paid building where he was forgotten but was found by Jim Moriarty.

Just like John had been found by Sherlock Holmes.

Two and a half years they had played a dangerous game. Taking shots at each other and getting closer all the time to killing the other. Every day they were closer and closer and closer. It was only time for when they would kill the other.

John would honestly be dead now if it hadn't been for Sherlock's Homeless Network. If he hadn't of taken over and helped them where they needed, they would have ignored him, he was sure of it.

It helped that Mycroft had allowed the old soldier to have access to Sherlock's Trust and to use it as he liked.

He had never known his friend was pretty much a millionaire.

But he had put that money to use and had kept the homeless network going and had even helped them with his medical knowledge and abilities.

His leg was useless but his doctoring was still the same.

They would warn him when they saw Moran, when he was getting too close to John, and they would pull him down allies and side streets when they knew the old sniper was getting ready to fire at him.

That was how he had survived for so long.

Because even in death, Sherlock Holmes always had his back.

But now it was time to face his opposite finally, face to face. Not through the scope of his own sniper rifle.

John looked up at 221 Baker Street one more time before he unlocked the door and walked into his home. He relished the warmth that the building filled him with before removing his jacket and slowly making it up to 221B.

The door was unlocked. "Should I make some tea?" He asked as he hobbled into the room, heading towards the kitchen.

"A cuppa sounds nice." The voice of one Sebastian Moran called back to him from the living room.

John walked into the kitchen and pulled down his old mug with the chip at the bottom and pulled down an ugly neon pink one to sit beside it. He started the electric kettle and waited. "So, have you decided that this will be the end then?"

There was a sigh. "I've grown weary of this game." He admitted. Johan sympathized with a nod of his head. "I am not Jim so I do not take pleasure of out witting my opponent and him out witting me for so long."

"I can understand that." John agreed as he put tea bags into the cups and then filled them with water. "What would you like in your tea?"

"Nothing, just bring it in."

John grimaced as he picked up both mugs in one hand and carried them into the living room, cane still in hand. Sebastian Moran was settled in his chair, leaving Sherlock's own open. "Here." John said as he held out the pink cup to the man once he was settled in the leather chair.

"Really?" The man questioned with a raised brow though he accepted the cup.

"You come into my home and I shall give you whatever cup I desire to give you." John took a sip of his own tea while laying his cane across his lap. "So, how are we going to do this?"

"I figured I'd shoot you in the head and then leave. Maybe go to Africa or Australia." Moran explained as he took his own sip of tea, his hand raising to point a Browning Hi Power hand gun directly at John's face.

John looked the man over as he sipped his tea. The man was taller than John by a good foot. He was solidly built and he could see the muscles throughout his body. The artificial leg was one of those metal marathon legs. It would explain how he was able to run quickly despite having a fake leg. The man's hair was completely white while his blue eyes were shining in exhaustion and anticipation. He looked like a much older and taller version of John really. Especially wearing the black t-shirt and green jumper over it.

"Not a bad idea. Though I have to ask, what makes you think I'm not going to fight back?" He had many plans on how to take the other man out himself. He would not lose what Sherlock died for.

"I didn't think you would."

"Good, because I'm not." With that John raised his cane and pointed it at Moran, pulling the trigger that was hidden underneath his thumb.

Moran gasped in pain as the bullet entered his chest where his heart would be.

It didn't stop the other military man from pulling the trigger on his own gun.

John gasped in pain as he stared down at his stomach.

He watched as blood blossomed across his shirt in slow fascination before the pain hit him hard.

Slow and painful and almost always fatal.

That's what gunshot wounds were like to the stomach.

His phone was in Sherlock's room, where he had been sleeping the past couple of years.

He grunted in pain as he tried to stand, only for his legs to give out and hit the floor. He was really happy that Mrs. Hudson was out of the building or the trauma he would have caused her would be beyond belief.

He needed his cellphone. How he had forgotten it that morning when he had escorted Mrs. Hudson was beyond him.

He groaned as he crawled along the floor, heading straight for his room and to his cellphone. He needed it so badly.

He could just imagine the long blood trail he was leaving behind him that would just be ghastly to clean later. He had seen many at crime scenes so he was sure his would be just as bad.

It was a painful and arduous to get to where he needed to get. It was worse than when he had walked across London on his leg when solving a case with Lestrade. But he had done that and he could do this, so he was. He wasn't going to give up.

So one painful drag of his arms after another, he pulled himself into his room. His cellphone was on the nightstand. It would take a little of doing but he was sure he could reach it.

He lifted himself up onto one of his arms, as far as he could, and used his free arm to feel over the top of his nightstand. His hand scrambled over the top, feeling the grooves where Sherlock had burnt, cut, sliced, carved into the furniture forever ago. It was comforting to feel them there now as his hand felt them out for a second.

He shook his head to concentrate on what needed to be done. He felt along the bedside table again and soon his hand landed on the smooth screen of the touch screen phone Mycroft had gifted him. It had been an attempt at keeping an eye on him without being too obvious. With a smile full of hope he pulled it down and hit the button to unlock it.

The screen remained blank.

The hope disappeared in an instant and he knew with all of his heart that his phone was dead.

And soon he would be too.

He sighed as he forced his body up and then to lean back against the bed. He looked down at his body and grunted at the blood soaked clothes he was wearing.

He wouldn't be able to stay awake for much longer. He'd lost too much blood and the chances of internal bleeding flooding the rest of his body were high. He wouldn't be awake for much longer and he knew it.

"Ah well." John said as he looked up at the ceiling, taking in the fact that it still looked the same as when Sherlock actually lived in the room. "Guess…I've given…it my best." He said as his breathing became labored and his chest constricted as it became more painful to breathe. "I wasted…your gift…Sherlock…sorry." He apologized as he closed his eyes and thought back to when he first met Sherlock.

It had been the craziest most exciting meeting he had ever had. It had caused his heart to pump and for his adrenaline to spike.

He had loved it.

And he continued to love it throughout all of the adventures they had together. All the fun and the danger. Oh god the danger!

He was happy he had had all of those good times.

He was glad he had met all the people he had met.

Lestrade.

Molly.

Mycroft.

Donovan and even Anderson.

And he couldn't forget Mrs. Hudson. The sweet old lady that had taken care of he and Sherlock both when they were incapable of getting even a simple gallon of milk.

He would miss them. He smiled even as his head lolled to the side. There was only one good thing about it being the end for him.

He'd get to see Sherlock again.

221B Baker Street

A.N. Another chapter down and made for all of you to read. What did you think about it? I want to know right away so review! This actually made me tear up a little bit when I wrote this because I hate thinking that John would suffer like this but also I'd like to think that he'd take up where Sherlock left off in London and took over. With the help of a very sorry Mycroft of course.

I forgot to mention that some of these oneshots could be crossovers, gender bent, slash, horror, and a lot of other things. So just a warning. There's a reason why I've marked this as M for Mature, okay.


	3. I'm Home

Chapter Three

I'm home

It had been a long time since he had seen his home.

221B Baker Street.

He stood just at the bottom of the stairs where his best and only friend was sat up waiting for him. A friend he had missed terribly-he would tell no one this fact-and had wanted to see over the last two and a half years.

He had been all over the world, tracking down the pieces of the web that had made up Jim Moriarty's network of psychopaths, hired killers, manipulators, rapists, and so much more. He had taken them each down one at a time and sometimes several at a time.

As a judge.

A policeman.

An assassin.

A cook.

And even a teacher at one point.

He had played the rolls that were needed to take down the web and after two and a half years he had finally destroyed the dastardly web that Moriarty had created.

He could finally return home to where his best friend waited for him.

"There is one thing you must know Sherlock." Mycroft said as he looked at his brother's back.

"Can it not wait Mycroft? John is up there." Sherlock said as he glanced over his shoulder to his brother. He was eager to see his blogger and friend and leave behind his brother. TO leave behind the pain and agony he had gone through the past two years to keep his friend safe.

"Sebastian Moran is still alive. He is still free." Mycroft informed stoically.

Sherlock froze in horror as the information sunk in. Sunk in with a horrifying cold sensation taking over his stomach completely. His head ran miles ahead of him as he looked back up at the stairs with a horrible feeling in his stomach and skin and heart.

John should have heard them talking down here.

He should have come down to see who was talking.

"Are you sure that John is home?"

Mycroft raised a brow at his brother as he swung his umbrella back and forth. "Yes. My sources have informed me that he returned five hours ago. He has stayed in since then."

"Has anyone else entered in from the front?"

"No, no one."

"What about from the back?"

"There's a way in from the back?" The look of surprise would have gratified Sherlock if it wasn't for the fear that now consumed him.

Sherlock did not say anything else as he ran up the stairs three at a time in urgency. He burst through the door and into the living room.

Everything was the same. All in its place. Even their chairs were still from across each other.

Only there was a body in John's chair.

"That would be Sebastian Moran." Mycroft said as he came into the room as well. "It seems that John has taken care of the problem for us."

Sherlock said nothing as he stepped forward to the body and picked up a Brown Hi-Power hand gun before looking down at where cane lay on the floor. It was a gun as well, a gift that was most likely from Mycroft.

Which meant John's limp had returned.

"Where is John though?" Sherlock asked as his eyes lay upon the bloody trail that moved towards his room.

Mycroft said nothing as Sherlock followed the trail to his room. Silent the entire way, even as his mind came to the likely scenario he would find.

John was leaning against his bed, head lolled to the right, a phone in hand that appeared to be dead. His entire from was covered in blood with said liquid pooling around his body. His body was stiff and he had been dead for a long time, probably for five hours.

The time John had come home and had not left.

"It…seems that John fought to get help." Mycroft stated.

Sherlock bowed his head in horror as he realized that he had kneeled right next to John and had pulled him into his arms. The hand gun lay right next to them.

"He died fighting. A death he had always wanted." Sherlock stated as he held John's head against his shoulder and held tight to him. "The idiot."

"I will call Lestrade and an ambulance to remove them." Mycroft stated stiffly as he turned and left the room.

"You weren't supposed to leave." Sherlock said as he looked down at the grey haired man in his arms. The body was stiff and cold. No life left within it. "You were supposed to be alive and well and waiting for me. Maybe punch me in the face when I came back you idiot."

He swallowed hard as he looked back down at the gun he had brought in with him. He hadn't known why he had grabbed it at first but now he figured he did.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text.

221BBS

A.N. Wondering what's going to happen? Well so do I but I think I can tell you in the next chapter. That'll be a fun one since it'll be about Mycroft next. If you haven't figured it out yet, this chapter is related to the Chapter 2 so yeah.

Review and let me know what you thought okay! I can't wait to hear!


	4. Making Arrangements

Chapter Four

Making Arrangements

He had stepped out into the living room and then down the stairs to the outside. He wanted to get out and away from the scene in general. He couldn't handle the pain he had seen in his brother's eyes.

Not once has he ever seen Sherlock that hurt since they had to put Redbeard down. Back then he had been more open but when that infernal Red Setter had to be put down, Sherlock had shut down. He had shut out emotions and people all together. He had made sure no one got close to him ever again.

Not in high school, university, or several years of his adult life did Sherlock ever allow anyone close to him. Not even their parents or himself. He would suffer through family affairs but otherwise he would avoid it all. Even talking to Mycroft was mostly business and not family.

Not that Mycroft could blame him. The child had been through so much that others did not under understand.

But then a miracle.

John Watson had appeared.

The old soldier had saved his brother from himself and had begun the long and arduous process of turning him more human.

He couldn't have been more thankful to the old soldier.

And he had thanked him by allowing him to die at the hand of Moriarty's sniper. He couldn't protect the one person that his little brother cared about the most.

He sighed as he rubbed at his face and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

He blinked as it rung with a text message. The tone of wind chimes indicating his little brother.

 _'Make it so that I and John will never be apart from each other again.' -SH_

Mycroft blinked in confusion at the text, unsure of how to take it.

Until a gunshot rung out.

221BBS

A.N. So yeah…I think I really did just kill the Baker Street Boys. Ah well, what can you do? Review and let me know what you thought.


	5. Bulldog

Chapter Five

Bulldog

"What is that?"

He had been out on a case, a simple case, a three at best. HE had walked out once he had shoved it in Anderson's face how badly he had messed up when he had wiped away some of the evidence to convict the killer. Luckily there had been more than enough evidence to catch the woman.

Typical of a suburban house wife to kill her husband and his mistress when they were caught in the act.

"Oh that, that's Gladstone." John said from behind the newspaper and from his chair. "I've already talked it over with Mrs. Hudson. She's tickled pink by him actually."

"Of course she is, the damn thing shares wrinkles with her." Sherlock muttered as he walked over to his own chair, sitting on the back of it and his feet on the cushion. "But why is it here…in our flat?"

"Because I wanted it." John replied calmly as he reached down and ran his fingers through the soft white and brown fur.

"Do you not need to discuss this with your flat mate?" Sherlock questioned with a scowl. "Is that not what you are supposed to do?"

"Since when have we ever done things normally?" The question threw the Consulting Detective for a second before his scowl returned.

"That is not the point."

"Correct. The point is I got a dog and I didn't bother asking you. Just like how you used my room and bed to host a corpse in it while seeing if it being covered in twelve blankets will affect the rate of decomposition. Six of those blankets were mine and all were burned along with the bed, pillows, frame of the bed, and the floor was replaced as well." John stated matter of fact. "All without asking me."

The pout on the detective's face was of epic proportions as he had a staring contest with the dog. "You are taking care of it." He stated a moment later. "And I paid for all the replacements and repairs to your room."

"I am and you did." John agreed as he set the paper aside before continuing running his hand through the fur of the dog on his lap.

"Why a bulldog?"

"Had one as a kid. Only lasted a week against my father but…"

"Sentiment." The scowl was expected.

"Mycroft told me of the Red Setter you had as a child." John admitted calmly. "I had a look at some puppies but none of them spoke to me like this one did." He smiled down at the puppy that was huffing at Sherlock with its own glare.

"And how…exactly does a dog…speak to you?" Sherlock questioned with a furrowed brow and pout. "Dogs are not supposed to be able to talk the human language."

"He doesn't." John agreed before smiling down at the puppy. "But his attitude was rather out spoken when I first met him. Same breeder that had the setters had a litter of bulldogs as well. This one was off on his own, watching, observing."

"Observing?" Sherlock looked back down at the puppy and was surprise to meet intelligent brown eyes that were watching him closely. As if judging him from the way he was sitting and standing.

He thought that he might understand how people felt whenever he looked them over intently now. "Yes, he was just watching. I don't know if he was going to do something but it was rather adorable and reminded me of someone."

Sherlock stood up and walked over to John before picking up the puppy and holding it so that they were now staring each other in the eyes.

John had to smother a laugh at the identical glares the two were giving the other. It really was adorable and cute at the same time.

"What is its name?"

"Gladstone."

"After God's Only Mistake?"

"Yes. Disraeli was my other option but I thought Gladstone would be a much better choice."

"Victorian England, two men who battled to be prime minister. One would go into office, then the next, and so it would continue. Why would you name it that though? What sentiment do you have to it?" Sherlock's gaze did not turn away from the puppy and the puppy did the same.

"Nothing. It was just something I found interesting in history like forever ago. I'm surprised you know something of it actually." John raised a brow at that piece of information. He was talking about the man that didn't know who the current prime minister was.

Sherlock just huffed, the puppy huffed at him.

John could only smile as Sherlock took the puppy and settled down in his chair with the puppy in his lap. It looked as if it was the making of a man and man's best friend.

221BBS

A.N. I thought a happy oneshot was in order after the upheaval of our hearts the last few ones. I had always thought having a puppy for the two would be great and I went with the typical bulldog just because it was so the Baker Street Boys, like for real. It was great. I feel so much happier now because of this one.

So review and let me know what you think about it! Okay! I can't wait to hear about what you all think!


	6. Meeting an Author

Chapter Six

Meeting an Author

"Do it again! Do it again!"

"John! Get this child off of me!"

Said blogger sighed as he rubbed at his forehead in annoyance. "Sonofa…I started this trip with one child but now I have two." He groaned as he tried to figure out how he got stuck in such a ridiculous situation in the first place.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. Castle will wear himself out at one point and find something new and shiny to play with." The detective that had arrested them explained. And how that had a hilarious tale to it but John sure in hell wasn't going to laugh about it.

"Yeah, Sherlock is the same way. That or he'll start talking to me and not realize I'm not actually there." He replied as he took the coffee cup that the detective held out to him. "I'm sorry, but can you tell me what your name is again? I fear that the forced occupancy with two childlike men has detracted me from listening properly."

"Kate Beckett. Homicide Detective of the NYPD." She introduced once more with a hand held out to him.

"Captain John Watson of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers." He offered as he shook her hand. Her hold was firm but she didn't try and force his hand underneath hers. She saw him as an equal, probably saw most people as an equal. He liked her already. "Who is that annoying Sherlock anyways and why is he so excited about him?"

"That's Richard Castle. A consultant for us and an author. His ideas can be sometimes outlandish or completely insane, but they can be useful at times." She explained as she sipped at her own coffee happily. She was really happy Castle had purchased that espresso machine for them forever ago. "He's been reading your blog and he's wanted to meet Sherlock Holmes for some time now."

"He'll get torn down at the rate he's going." John warned, remembering how the consulting detective had torn an officer apart after they had been stopped from chasing down a pickpocket that had somehow gotten a hold of John's wallet. They got it back…but then had ran into a murder in the park.

Where this said detective had arrested them because Sherlock had torn down several of the officers and then given evidence that apparently had placed both he and Sherlock at the time of the murder.

Despite what Sherlock had wanted, John had used his one phone call to get a hold of Mycroft. He was not about to sit in a jail cell because his flat mate refused to call for help from his brother. Despite said brother being a prick about everything.

"I can't wait to watch." Beckett said with a smirk as she settled against her desk and watched the show.

John only rolled his eyes before he too got comfy next to her and sipped at his coffee. It was never tiring for him to see Sherlock do his thing. No matter how bad he got.

"Come on! Do me! I know you can! I've read the blog!" Castle exclaimed as he circled the Detective like a shark waiting for the first bit of blood. Beckett was sure he had his recorder in his pocket at the moment to get a famous deduction and use it in one of his novels. She could already see a character that could tear Nikki Heat apart just for the fun of it. "I bet you could figure out what I had for breakfast with just a glance."

"Don't be ridiculous! There would be no point in deducing something as idiotic as that to prove a point." Sherlock snapped as he stood up straight and glared at the author. "Will it get you to go away?"

"Most likely." Castle stated. "After you tore that cop to pieces and sent him crying out of the room, I'm sure you could do the same to me."

"You had omelets with ham, cheese, peppers, bacon, and ketchup. A tall glass of milk went with it. You were married but divorced not too long after your daughter was born, who of which is in your custody because the mother is unsuitable and irresponsible. Your mother lives with you and you both adore and hate that fact at the same time. You are an author and have written several best sellers and enjoy the publicity. Though you are a danger junkie like John and must be where all the action is at all times, hence why you are a consultant for the police department. And then you are also sleeping with the detective standing next to John and have been for some time….bit bad?" Sherlock turned to John when the entire station went completely silent.

"Bit bad." John agreed amusedly as Beckett and Castle both went red in the face.

221BBS

A.N. and the first crossover is here! A Castle and Sherlock crossover that I thought would be fun to write. I've always loved Castle just because he's absolutely annoyingly fun. Not to mention he's hot as hell too! Just like Sherlock and John. At least in my opinion he is.

Anyways, review and let me know what you think about this chapter!


	7. Lestrade

Chapter Seven

Lestrade

It been a difficult thing to come upon after having been told by Mycroft. It would never get better either.

He had shown up to 221B when Sherlock's brother had called and told him what had happened. That the killer was dead in his attempt at killing John and the soldier had died trying to call for help.

He should have known better when John had come by the other day to see him. The man hardly ever came by Scotland Yard for a social visit. Only when a case was up, otherwise it was too hard for him to make the trip too terribly often. His limp had come back directly after Sherlock had jumped.

The poor sod.

And now he had to come by and see Government officials and professional looking cleaners running around and cleaning everything up. Bagging and tagging and taking pictures. It was obvious that Mycroft had taken control and jurisdiction out of his hands.

That pissed him off.

But he had allowed it as he had felt his legs just about give when he saw a body bag being removed from the building.

Thank god Mrs. Hudson hadn't been home.

Even now, after all the funeral arrangements had been made and the actual service was happening, he still couldn't believe it.

John Watson was dead.

He no longer had any connection to Sherlock or John.

He glanced over to where Mrs. Hudson stood with Mrs. Turner and Harry, all three sobbing uncontrollably as they watched the urn be lowered into the ground.

It was ridiculously big as well. With a green and blue swirl patter that seemed to have some constellations imprinted as well. It was beautiful but also saddening to see.

He stood silently as the urn was lowered and the ground covered once more. The priest finished and people began to scatter. The three women were herded away and out of the pouring rain. It shouldn't have been raining that day but apparently the weather forecast had been wrong. Nothing new.

"I'm surprised you've stuck around." He said as he glanced to the side where Mycroft Holmes stood with his umbrella at his side. He didn't seem to care that he was getting wet.

"I had to say goodbye to them." Was returned, confusing the DI.

"Them?"

"Yes, them." Mycroft stated as he kneeled onto the ground and laid a hand on the headstone, glancing to the side where a similar one stood. "There is something I must inform you of and I am certain that you will not like it."

Lestrade was on edge now. Whenever Mycroft said stuff like that, it was never good, ever. He looked at John's head stone and then to the side where Sherlock's own was stood. "Why was the urn so big?

He wasn't even sure why he asked that but he felt it was important to know, even if he didn't understand. "It is because Sherlock's own ashes were inside of it as well." Mycroft's face twisted in an expression before smoothing out and standing up.

"What…but…he's been dead for…" Lestrade scrambled to speak and put his thoughts together. To try and figure out what was happening.

"No, he died the same day that John Watson did. He was the one to find the doctor dead in his apartment." The bureaucrat glanced at Sherlock's headstone once more before giving John's a last look and turning away from both. He flipped his umbrella up and opened it, apparently returning to normal. "He had gone to destroy Moriarty's web in the world. It took longer than he had expected it too. I was supposed to have been protecting John, but Moran got by my security."

"Sherlock…was alive…and you didn't tell John!" Lestrade shouted, he could feel his face turning red in indignation for himself and for his lost friend. "That could have made him fight even harder! Struggle to stay alive!"

"He did try Detective Inspector, but the wound was too bad and by the time his phone had been charged and turned back on, it would have been too late anyways." The dead tone the other spoke with told of regret and self-hatred. "It does not matter now though, for Sherlock is truly dead now. I've fulfilled both of their final wishes and I do not need to look back at this unfortunate tragedy. Goodbye Detective Inspector, this will be the last we meet."

With that, the British Government disappeared into the rain where Lestrade was sure the ever black car was waiting for him.

Lestrade turned back to the gravestone with a sigh and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "You bloody bastard." He muttered before smacking the gravestone solidly. "How dare you do that to me and John and Mrs. Hudson. How dare you."

He stood there with his hand on the gravestone for a long time. "At least….at least you two are back together."

With that he walked away with one of the biggest and saddest secrets he will ever keep for Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.

And regret that John never knew that his friend was alive in life.

221B Baker Street

A.N. This chapter goes with Ch. 2,3, and 4. Sad and I'm feeling kinda guilty about that one. A lot of shit was put on Lestrade throughout his acquaintance with Sherlock and it just seems like the DI is forever going to have to deal with shit from the Holmes and Watsons. Annoying as it seems. Anyways I love that man because of the shit he puts up with from the two. Always great to have a loyal police dog on your side. Review and let me know what you all thought about this chapter!


	8. Childish Moments

Chapter Eight

Childish Moments

It had been a long day.

A long week.

A long month.

He hated the thought of leaving the flat but he had to run to the store for essentials. Rosie had to be left behind because she had been taking her nap.

Sherlock had been left in charge of the little girl while John kip out real quick for the milk and whatnot. He trusted the detective to call if something was wrong and he trusted him to keep the girl away from all the dangerous experiments that littered Sherlock's room. The more benign ones were on the kitchen table and kept well out of reach.

Which was one of the few things that Sherlock would do to help in raising Rosie. Most of the heavy lifting was done by John. Which meant that all the parenting and disciplining and potty training was done by John.

And the last month had been hard, more so than normal.

Cases had piled up fast and Rosie had spent most of the month sick from everything that a child could catch. It was ridiculous how often a five year old could get sick in this day and age.

The worse had been the mono that she had caught from her preschool and had spent one and a half weeks in the hospital because her tonsils had swollen so much that they had to be removed. The antibiotics and fluids sent into her little veins through IV had terrified John more so than ever.

It didn't help that at near the end of the month, after Rosie had been discharged from the hospital, Sherlock had been shot in the thigh. It was a clear through shot though and no complications, so he was out relatively quickly despite the Doctors wanting him to stay in the hospital for a week. John was surprised the consulting detective had made it a day and a night.

So he was exhausted and knew that he was catching either the flu or a stomach virus due to all the stress. He'd be fully sick within a week, maybe less if Sherlock continued his childish pouting.

The man was getting bored and it was verily obvious. John had to beg Lestrade for cold cases just so he could distract Sherlock for at least an hour if not more. He'd been doing all of the legwork of course, which was tiring him even quicker. Mrs. Hudson helped care for Rosie when he was out running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

He sighed as he unlocked the door and dumped the groceries on the kitchen table. The flat was quiet, which meant one of two things at the moment.

Both Sherlock and Rosie were asleep.

Or Sherlock had snuck out of the flat with Rosie and was doing something incredibly stupid at the moment that would make John want to throttle the man.

John prayed that it was the first one. He didn't think he could handle anymore stupidity from Sherlock at the moment.

"Sherlock? Has Rosie woken up?" He called out to his friend, wondering if the other would answer or ignore him. He hurriedly put away the milk and then began to put other things away as well. He didn't want to let the milk or the butter go to waste just because he couldn't get it put up fast enough.

Which had happened once when Sherlock had dragged him out of the building for a case. He had made Sherlock go with him to the store after that time. Punishment for wasting food he supposed.

He didn't get a reply. "Sherlock?" He called again after he was done, getting nervous the longer no one replied. "Sherlock I swear if you're showing Rosie another body, I'm going to…"

He trailed off as he came into the living room fully and was able to look at the couch, a smile forming on his face happily.

On the sofa lay Sherlock. He was fully stretched out with his wounded leg up on a pillow to keep it elevated. The cast that was placed there on his leg almost reached his hip and had little doodles on it from everyone who could stand Sherlock. That and pink looked grand on the man. Matched his blue gown and pajamas nicely.

It was obvious the man was asleep. Probably from the pain pills, the bottle was sitting on the coffee table, child safety lid securely on. The man had been careful to make sure the lid was on tight, which told John a lot about the other and his concern for the child.

But that wasn't what made John smile. No, it was what Sherlock had settled on his chest.

He knew that when the man woke up, he'd grumble over the growing puddle of drool on his shirt.

He quickly pulled out his phone and pulled up his camera, taking several pictures before the other could wake. He'd have to save them all to different places so that Sherlock wouldn't delete them, because he was sure that's what the Consulting Detective would do.

After all, the man always hated to admit the paternal instincts he had to little Rosie.

He'd never forget finding one Sherlock Holmes asleep on their couch with the little girl laying on his chest, head pillowed on his shoulder, and hand on her back.

John stared down at the two fondly, thinking of how well they looked like a father and his daughter.

He didn't even mind that thought one bit.

221B Baker Street

A.N. A cute oneshot I thought. That and a picture I found on Tumblr. ~SH JW~ on Tumblr. They've got some cute pics there that they've done. Along with…some other type of ones that I liked. Go and check them out if you're curious. If you can't find them right away, trying sh2jw . tumblr . com. That should take you to them to see their fanart. Anyways, review and tell me what you thought of this one. I love these little cute ones. They're so adorable.


	9. Making A Choice

Chapter Nine

Making a Choice

He couldn't do a thing. He had to lay there on the ground and watch his friend shout in horror and pain. He had to watch as all of John's PTSD flared up the other man stumbled towards him. His limp was already back and his leg was dragging painfully behind him.

He didn't want that to have occurred, but it had. Having the person that had fixed the limp die right in front of him….it had always been a possibility.

God how he wanted to move to help his friend, his only friend, and his best friend. But the sniper was still in the area, watching everything that happened. He couldn't move to help him. He just couldn't. He had to stay still and wait until the sniper disappeared and until everything else was in motion.

Damn it all. He hated it.

He almost jumped when he heard the gunshot.

Luckily he held extremely still.

But John had fallen to the ground with a cry out in pain.

John had been shot. The sniper had shot John.

It didn't seem fatal.

Right shoulder wound. Through and through. John would be okay.

He couldn't move. He had to wait until they were moved away from the scene and out of the sight of the sniper.

He wouldn't risk his friends' lives just because one had been injured.

It killed him inside a little to watch John grit his teeth as pressure was applied to his shoulder.

God he wanted to help the man.

But he couldn't.

He had to wait.

He couldn't risk them like that. The snipers were still watching them. Waiting for one false move on his part.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't help his friend.

God he hated Moriarty.

He hated not moving.

He hated not being able to help his only and best friend.

221B Baker Street

A.N. Haha! Another one shot. This one is way short but that's okay. It's meant to be. Anyways! Review and tell me what you thought of that one! I can't wait to hear from you guys!


	10. Transformation

Chapter Ten

The Transformation

He could hear the hounds at Baskerville. On their tail as they took off in the opposite direction.

Damn Mycroft to hell and back. The bastard had decided that the third visit to the labs was pushing it and so had revoked their entrance to the facility. Something that John was going to yell at the man for because really, who called the hounds on their own brother?

Though he supposed that Sherlock would do the same thing to the fat bastard himself if he ever got the chance.

Damn it, he was around Sherlock too much to be calling Mycroft fat. Oh, look, there's a damn German Shepard right behind them barking up a storm.

"They're catching up." John shouted as he pushed himself to move faster. His leg was cramping though and it was irritating him beyond belief. "Damn my leg!" He shouted as he pushed pass the pain and moved so that he was now even with Sherlock.

"We need to lose them."

"No really! I thought we needed to stop and play with the puppies."

"Come now John, sarcasm isn't needed at the moment."

"Then keep moving and come up with a plan!"

"It'll be dark soon John, we need to get up high somewhere so that we can escape their attacks."  
John blinked as he looked out to the sky in between the trees of the forest. It was already getting dark. The moon would be up tonight.

A full moon.

"Damn it! Split up Sherlock. We'll meet up at the bed as soon as we possibly can." He growled as he turned abruptly and went in a different direction. He ignored Sherlock as he disappeared into the forest.

He had to get away from the other man before it happened. He couldn't let it happen in front of the other man, he'd be hated just like all the other times.

It was one of the reasons why Harry drank so much in the first place if not the main reason. So he ran away from his friend, ignoring the yells for his name and the sounds of the man trying to keep up with him.

He knew that this close to his time that Sherlock wouldn't be able to catch up at all. He'd be stuck back there and hopefully he'd try and take a separate path to try and cut him off. In which case John had a plan.

He stopped and held still and waited. Sherlock was stopped himself, most likely trying to hear him, and when the other man didn't he turned to do what John thought he'd do. Try and cut John off by taking a direction he though the soldier would take.

Perfect.

With that he shed his clothes and folded them up, hiding them in a push with his shoes and watch. He couldn't risk tearing them and having to walk to the bed naked. Sherlock would beat him there anyways.

Just in time too. The sun had gone all the way down and the fully bright moon was shining up in the sky.

He growled as he felt the first shift of his body. His bones snapped angrily before rearranging and shifting, forcing him to fall onto his hands that were changing as well. His tailbone lengthened and soon fur was sprouting all over his body. His mouth and nose began to lengthen and elongate further as his teeth sharpened and readjusted to fit into the muzzle. His eyes dilated from both the pain and the darkness surrounding him.

It was a long few minutes that felt like hours, but soon the shift ended and he reared his head back and let out a long howl out to the moon.

He growled as barks reached his sensitive ears. Other predators in his temporary territory were not permitted. He didn't care if they were hunting or if they were already here before he was. This territory was his for the time and he was going to make sure that they knew it.

He moved towards the sounds of other canines, growling low in his throat, nose in the air to take in the scent, and instincts already flaring to tear those impudent creatures to pieces.

He wouldn't let them trespass.

His eyes narrowed as a new scent came to him, brought by the breeze of the night. It was tangy and salty, a scent he knew well from past kills. Those other canines had injured something, but it wasn't just an animal or small creature.

No, the scent was one he knew intimately. He spent days breathing it in back in his den. It was the scent of his pack mate. It was one of his kin and he had been injured.

He snarled as he followed the scent to where his pack mate was with the others that dared to hurt him.

He would tear them to pieces before they could do anything about it.

He ran through the forest, the scent of blood and anxiety soaking the air. The sounds of the dogs getting louder. Soon he was right on top of where they were.

His pack mate wasn't anywhere to be seen but the hounds that had clearly chased him were at the bottom of a tree, barking up into the branches. That must be where the pack mate was. Trapped in the trees and unable to run or fight from his position.

So he'd do it for him instead.

Without a second of hesitation, he jumped forward and tore through the neck of the first dog.

Blood spattered everywhere, soaking the ground anything near him in an instant. He spat his prey out of his mouth before leaping at the next. Ignoring the sting of one of the dogs leaping onto his back and biting into his spine. He grabbed the second on by the scruff of its neck and threw it into a tree, the sound of something cracking pleasing to his ears.

He rolled a second later and crushed the third one with his weight. Much heavier than most wolves and yet still small enough to maneuver when the fourth and final dog tried to bite at his throat, avoiding the attack by back pedaling away from it. Though he didn't give it a chance as he bunched his muscles tightly and leapt on top of the other creature and ripping along its spine and tearing the vertebra almost completely out of the body before slamming a paw on its head and crushing it beneath his strength.

He licked his the blood off of his muzzle the best he could before looking around and listening intently. There was no real sounds besides the wind and the breathes of his pack mate still up in the tree. Silence for a long moment.

But then voices. Footsteps heading in this direction. Shouts of orders. HE snarled at the sounds before leaping in the direction they were coming from. He needed to protect his pack mate at all cost. There was no way he was going to allow the other to be injured anymore than he was.

He was going to tear apart the threat with all he was and make sure they were safe.

Even at the cost of himself.

So with that in mind, he slid into the darkness to take out the threats permanently. They would not know what hit them.

221B Baker Street

A.N. I so have been wanting to do a werewolf one for a long time! I'm happy so far and the second part is going to come up next! I can't wait! It'll be in Sherlock's point of view! So review and tell me what you all thought about it!


	11. Creatures of the Night

Chapter Eleven

Creatures of the Night

"John! Wait!" Sherlock shouted as he turned in the direction his friend had run off in. The soldier's speed had increased and he could hardly keep up. Which shouldn't be possible due to the fact that Sherlock had the long legs and longer stride, so he should have logically been able to catch up with little trouble.

But that wasn't the case. The blonde soon disappeared into the trees, the sounds of dogs behind becoming louder, the longer Sherlock stood there, calculating.

He'd be able to cut John off if he went in an angle towards the Bed and Breakfast they were staying in. That would be the direction the soldier would take and he had stated that he was going to meet up at the Bed as soon as possible. He'd rather stick together though because he knew that John's leg was starting to bother him, aching from the rough treatment of the forest floor most likely. They were used to running along asphalt and concrete, not uneven ground littered with holes.

So he had to catch up with John as soon as possible.

Which wouldn't happen when two dogs leapt out of the bushes behind him, snarling viciously at him. "Damn." He muttered as he ran into the forest, ignoring the way he had chosen to meet up with John and instead in the exact opposite direction. He wasn't about to lead these hounds to his friend no matter what. The man could run but he was sure it would end at some point and he'd be on the ground, nursing the phantom pain in his leg.

So he ran away from John and ran and ran. The dogs were right behind him still and had gained on him. He could feel the nips of almost bites on the back of his thighs, calf, and buttocks. He had to move faster but he was unfamiliar with this forest and so he couldn't navigate as well as he could in London.

Which led to the horrible end of one of the dogs ripping into his leg and dragging him to the forest floor. He grunted as his hands scrapped along the rocks and sticks that littered the ground as the dog ripped his head back and forth, ripping his leg apart further.

He didn't wait for the other dogs to leap on him though as he kicked the one in the face with his foot, making it release him long enough for him to stand and leapt up onto a branch of a tree, pulling himself further up so that the animals wouldn't be able to grab a hold of him.

Not that it had helped climbing the tree. He had just basically trapped himself up in the foliage. The security at Baskerville would get him if not the dogs down below.

He looked around, trying to see if he could leap to a different tree but he had somehow picked the only tree that was so far placed from others that trying to leap would end up with injury and attacked by dogs once more. It would be more prudent to just wait until the guards came or John came to see what was taking so long. Though that thought left him strangely worried for the soldier.

He didn't want the man to get hurt because he had to help Sherlock. He had already been attacked and covered in explosives because he was Sherlock's friend. He didn't want anything else to happen to him.

A howl distracted him for a long moment, frozen in fear as he remembered the ghastly figure of a hound with glowing red eyes and glowing slightly. It was a terrifying thought that it was heading this way towards him to finish him off.

He shook his head as he looked down at the snarling and barking dogs, wondering if he could somehow distract them. He didn't have food or snacks on him at the moment. He had no chemicals that he could use and no real device that could do anything close to distracting the mutts.

His leg pulsed with pain as his mind drifted away from his situation. He looked down and saw his pant leg was torn and soaked with blood while the wound was gaping and swollen. He feared infection if he didn't try and stop the bleeding and the exposure to the forest air.

Sherlock quickly pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around his leg, binding the wound the best he could with what he had. Biting back a groan, he almost missed the sound of a snarl and yelp of a dog down below due to the pain he felt.

HE looked down and watched with wide eyes as a large hound tore the head of the dog clear off of its neck and spitting it away like garbage. The wolf didn't even seem to notice as one of the dogs jumped onto its back, biting along its spine, before tearing into another one of the dog's back and almost completely ripping out the vertebrae and then stomping the skull with such a fierce move that Sherlock could only imagine what would happen to his own if he got in the way of this creature.

It wasn't done though as it rolled, crushing the dog on its back. It had to move quickly backwards though as the fourth and final dog leapt towards it, intent on tearing its throat clean out. It was able to dodge before ripping that fourth dog apart, leaving all the security dogs dead in a mere minute if not less.

Once all was still and quiet, Sherlock was finally able to get a look at the creature with the help of the full moon through the branches of the tress.

A blonde grayish color was its fur, grey around the muzzle, eyes, and paws than anywhere else. It was large as well, too large than what a wolf should've been. For that's what it was. A wolf of some sort. A breed he had never seen before.

Large and full of muscles. Powerful hunches moved around easily and gracefully, though one front leg seemed to almost drag across the ground, as if damage in a past fight. A little bulge at the shoulder could mean scaring or a tumor of some sort.

He almost gasped when the creature looked up into the tree, almost as if it could see him and knew he was there. Blue intelligent eyes shined up at him, almost familiar, as if he had seen them somewhere before. He shook his head and blinked as he tried to ignore that feeling.

Then a growl as shouts and voices and footsteps moved closer to the pair. Sherlock gulped as he thought about the officers facing the creature on the ground because for some reason he knew, he knew that they wouldn't be strong enough to take it down.

They would fall to the might of this beast within a second.

He watched as the wolf disappeared in the direction of the voices and all Sherlock could really think was that he hoped that it would make their deaths quick and painless.

221B Baker Street

He had been walking for some time, an hour or two, he thinks, but he still hadn't reached the bed and breakfast yet. His leg was preventing him from walking properly and he had to take a break here and there once in a while.

He huffed in frustration as he wiped sweat from his face and continued walking, limping heavily as the pain seemed to intensify the more he walked and put weight on it. John would kill him when they finally met up again, but there was nothing for it.

A grunt as he slipped on the grass now covered in dew. He was going to hit the ground hard at this point and he knew it. He sighed mentally as his body slid forward towards the ground.

Only to grunt in surprise when he landed against a warm and furry body, stopping his fall to the ground.

Sherlock blinked in surprise as he looked down at the coarse blonde fur and then to the head that was turned to stare at him with those bright blue eyes. "Shit." He muttered as the wolf huffed at him before nosing him firmly back onto his feet while leaning against it.

HE remembered how this creature tore apart those dogs and the screams of the humans as they were torn apart as well. Not even the gunshots seemed to phase this creature. So why was it that it was here helping him now? Why was it here allowing him to lean against it like it was a domesticated pet dog? Like Redbeard his red setter.

And those eyes. So intelligent, more so than any creature he had met beforehand. Not to mention that this wolf obviously was not the hound. Nowhere near the image he had seen of the hound that night that seemed years ago but was really only two days ago. "Who and what are you?" he questioned aloud as the creature began to walk and Sherlock was forced to limp along or be left behind.

"You are obviously a wolf of some breed, but most don't come up to a person's chest. Not like you do." He continued, ignoring the rumbling of the wolf. He wasn't sure if it was growling or even laughing at him. "Hush you. You don't get to laugh at me when you are some sort of mutation or experiment or something." He groaned when he took a step and it sent a pulse of pain through his leg.

The wolf stopped and looked at him once more before lowering his body and nudging at Sherlock. He raised a brow at the beast in disbelief. "I don't think most would allow anyone to ride them as a horse." He stated as well but did not refuse the offer and threw a leg over the beast and held on to the fur at its neck so that he wouldn't fall off. "Why are you helping me when you tore those guards apart?" he wondered next as he watched the forest pass by from the view of the wolf.

He frowned when he felt a wet spot on his wrist. He looked towards it and saw a bloody spot just above its right shoulder. He frowned. "You're injured." He stated as he looked at the still fluid movements.

The beast didn't make a sound, just continued moving forward, heading somewhere that seemed to be away from the bed and breakfast he and John were staying at.

John…he wondered if the other man had made it to the hotel yet. Maybe he was pacing back and forth in their room cursing up a storm. Worried most likely for Sherlock's safety and Sanity. Both of which were in question at the beginning of the night.

He shook his head when the wolf stopped at a bush and was nosing around the area, looking for something. He blinked as the rustle of clothes reached his ears and he craned his neck to watch as the wolf gently and gingerly removed a pile of clothes out of the bush, dropping the shoes and socks as it lost its grip on them.

It couldn't be. Sherlock slid off the back of the creature and stumbled so that he could drop to his knees next to creature. He quickly reached for one of the shoes and looked at it. Practical boots that the soldier had worn in the forest, stating that his combat boots would be better than his leather loafers.

Sherlock then looked around to see the clothes that the wolf held in its jaws and blinked in horror before turning to meet the overly intelligent and familiar blue eyes.

Yes, they were his. With a more animalistic feel and more reckless but still John. His friend. The man that had saved his life multiple times.

Looks like he had saved Sherlock once more.

"You have some explaining to do when you've returned to normal John." Sherlock said with a smirk as he took the clothes and picked up the shoes. "But till then, why don't you take me to the Bed and Breakfast."

John only gave a huff before lowering his body to the ground once more.

221B Baker Street

A.N. Got another one done! This one was really fun! I'm so glad I wrote it because you don't' see a whole lot of werewolf stories too much. At least, I haven't found any but then again I have really gone out of my way to find them either…I really should see if I can't find them. Anyways, review and tell me what you thought! I can't wait to hear from you all. Until next time.

This chapter is the continuation of chapter ten.


	12. Meet the Police Mascot

Chapter Twelve

Meet the Police Mascot

They had come into the station to fill out a police report.

That was it.

That was all they were supposed to be here for.

John should have known better because whenever he was with Sherlock, all of his plans and expectations were skewered dead with a harpoon. Ah, the life of being Sherlock Holmes's best friend.

He glared at the huddle of police officers, surrounding Sherlock with worried frowns, smiles, worry, confusion, and worry. Did he mention the worry?

He could understand the worry a great deal, but at the same time he felt a little insulted. Did they really think he would put another living thing in danger like that? He knew what Sherlock was like but he also knew exactly what Sherlock would do with the puppy as well.

Besides, Sherlock and Gladstone got along like fish and water.

"Who would let you have a dog?" Donovan snarked as she watched from her desk. It was obvious that she herself was confused and worried for the pup, but wouldn't dare get close to Sherlock.

Not after the shit she had pulled and the chewing out that John had handed out months ago. Bitch seemed to have learned something at least.

"It does not belong to me." Sherlock said even as the puppy huffed from his arms. Why he had insisted on bringing it to the station, John would never know. "It belongs to John as he insisted on bringing it home without speaking with me."

John just raised an eyebrow from the outskirts of the group, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against a nearby desk. His leg was bugging him so getting some weight off of it was nice. So he just leaned there and watched as the female officers and detectives oohed and awed over the puppy and the males all chuckled and patted the pup on the head.

"Yes, I went and got a dog. It's to help out with some problems is all." He waved off the curious looks and instead looked at the group. "Don't you all have things you need to be doing?"

"He's right." Lestrade finally spoke up a second later. Before either 221B resident could blink, Lestrade swept the little bulldog puppy into his own arms with a huge grin on his face. "All to have this little guy be our Mascot, say aye!"

"AYE!"

John's head jerked back at the volume before shaking his head in bemusement. And then he had to watch as Sherlock wrestled the puppy away from Lestrade and back into his arms.

Really, to think this is what his life was becoming just because he had Sherlock Holmes in his life.

221B Baker Street

A.N. Another shot done and this goes with Ch. 5 and mention of Ch. 1 was in here too. Review and tell me what you all thought! Until next time!


	13. Heat

Chapter Thirteen

Heat

He was so nice and toasty. His bed was always so welcoming and comforting to him and there was no one ever that could ruin his bed for him. Not even that lunatic of a sociopath that he called his roommate.

Scratch that, Sherlock had managed to ruin his last bed by keeping a corpse in it covered in blankets for an experiment. He had made the jerk buy a new bed and new blankets and pillows. He'd even made the berk get the entire room cleaned before he was happy.

But at the moment, he was happy and warm. For once he couldn't hear Sherlock experimenting or yelling downstairs and so he knew he'd be able to get a lay in before he got up.

Only that the longer he lay underneath his blanket the warmer he got. It got so warm that he kicked his blanket off, only for his clothes to start scratching against his skin as sweat began to form on his forehead.

He whined deep in his throat as a heat burned in the pit of his stomach, causing him to arch his back to try and relieve it even a little. It only got worse though, no matter what why he turned or twisted his body, it didn't go away.

It was only when he felt a familiar slick begin to coat the back of his thighs that he knew exactly what this was.

Which only sent his instincts into overdrive, losing any coherent thought with it.

221B Baker Street

He should have known that this was coming, but really, there was no way he could have done anything about it. Not since John had been forbidden from taking any suppressants when Sarah found him popping them like candy just before his heat a year ago. Though to be fair, it wasn't like Sherlock kept track of them. It was a rather dull thing to try and keep in mind and besides, he already knew the routine at this point.

Though Lestrade didn't know what was going on, made clear when the other Alpha stepped into the apartment and his nose instantly flared at the pheromones permeating the flat. "What in the bloody hell…." He trailed off as his eyes wondered over to where John was reappearing at the foot of the stairs up to his room.

Sherlock could only watch with a smirk as John stalked over to the DI and sniffed the startled man's neck. He wondered what John would do with Lestrade as he sipped at his tea. Throw the man out or shuffle him onto the couch next to Sherlock.

It took several seconds for John to sniff at the other before he began to rub his cheek against Lestrade's and then against his neck, shoulders, chest, arms, hands, stomach, thighs, and back. The Consulting Detective could only laugh as the DI stood there in astonishment.

He could only laugh more when John, clearly happy with his scenting, began to shuffle the man towards the coach where he was made to sit next to Sherlock. "Good evening Detective Inspector." Sherlock greeted in amusement just as John took off into the kitchen, a low growl in his throat.

"What the bloody hell was that?" The DI questioned as he watched the older man take off into the kitchen before returning out, a growl and snarl on his face as he stalked around the apartment restlessly. "Is he wearing your shirt?" He questioned next as he recognized the blue shirt as one that Sherlock wore when he wasn't going anywhere. It hung off of the man and reached down to his thighs. Lestrade hoped the other man had something else on underneath that shirt because he wasn't wearing pants or socks.

"Helps calm him somewhat." Sherlock gave a shrug of his shoulders, eyes now looking down at his phone as he texted rapidly. "Otherwise he normally tears at himself rather ferociously."

"But why?" Lestrade turned to look at Sherlock, but his eyes were drug back as John moved up the stairs, steps unusually light for him as he moved. "I mean, I can tell he's in heat, but this more a behavior fitting an Alpha in rut. Not an Omega in Heat."

"Trauma can cause such reactions to Omegas actually." Sherlock explained. "Though John hasn't explained why he acts like this, I can only assume the trauma from his bullet wound has affected his heats. He becomes territorial and rather vicious when unwanted figures show up in it."

Lestrade looked at Sherlock in amazement. Though the term unwanted figures had him concerned. "Is that why Mrs. Hudson didn't answer the door? She's not wanted here by John?"

"Oh dear no." Sherlock actually laughed at that as he sent off another text. "She doesn't like being trapped in the apartment for a week while John suffers his heat is all."

"Trapped?" was the next squeaked question. Lestrade couldn't imagine being trapped in the apartment with Sherlock and an out of it John for a week straight. There just wasn't anyway that he could handle that. "What has Mycroft gotten me into!?" He questioned with wide eyes.

For that was why he was here. The British Government had asked him to go and check on his brother and friend for him, though he hadn't given a reason as to why.

But being the friend of both the idiots, the request had worried him for their health. He had made the trip over with Donovan after they had closed a case earlier that day just to make sure both were okay. He figured this was the reason why in the end.

"Yes, John won't let us leave while he's in heat. He doesn't remember why or remember his heat at all." He explained calmly, his head looking up as John reappeared from the stairs with a limp this time. He sighed, already knowing that John would overwork his shoulder and leg and be in quite a bit of pain after all was said and done. "The territoriality reaches out to people as well. He'll not let us leave the apartment at all and will follow us to the bathroom most times as well."

"He's worried we'll leave him here?" Lestrade raised a brow at that thought. John was normally a very strong person and held himself together rather well. For him to act like this was startling and worrying.

"Quite." Sherlock stood up and grabbed a towel from the pile that sat on Sherlock's normal chair. He grabbed a hold of John, stilling the Omega long enough for him to see the towel in the other's hand. Only once Sherlock was sure John could see the towel did he reach down with it and quickly wipe between the Omega's legs and then down his thighs and calves. Lestrade hadn't even noticed the slick had traveled that far down till right then.

Lestrade gasped as the smell of Slick reached his nose. That answered his question about whether John was wearing something other than just the T-shirt. "Do you do this…every month?" he questioned next, covering his nose until Sherlock was able to get the towel into a plastic bag and place it next to the door. The smell had increased the smell of Omega heat greatly and the feeling of his pants tightening was almost gruesome with how much it hurt.

"Every other. John says that he has never had monthly heats, but every other month he does. Has since he was a boy apparently." Sherlock just shrugged and allowed himself to be shuffled back to the couch by John.

Lestrade watched in awe as the normally rather distant Consulting Detective allowed his friend to scent him thoroughly. The man didn't make a move to dissuade John or to stop him, just allowed him to do as he pleased. He even allowed the rather tender motion of John sniffing his neck and licking it before the blonde man was off walking around the apartment again.

"There's no need to stare at me like that." He didn't even look up from his phone. "It calms him to scent me, so I allow it. Besides, he does not try to initiate anything beyond the licking of my neck."

The DI's head snapped to look at John, who had just come out of Sherlock's room, growling low in his throat once more and that ever present snarl as well. "An Omega in heat…not initiating sex…" He whispered in horror as the dots connected in his head. How Sherlock hadn't made the same connection yet was beyond him.

"What is it?" Sherlock's cool grey blue eyes settled on the older man, narrowed and suspicious. "You just thought of something pertaining to John's Heat. What is it then?" He questioned with a raised brow. To have someone know something he didn't was rare, but not uncommon due to him deleting many things from his mind.

Lestrade gulped before moving to open his mouth, but stopping when the sounds of feet stomping up the stairs just outside of the flat. "Shit." Lestrade stood up to go and intervene Donovan before she could come in. The Alpha in her wouldn't be able to resist John's Omega Heat at the moment and she would do something she would regret later.

Only he stopped when what sounded like a snarl right behind the couch sounded. "Slowly…sit…down." Sherlock whispered as his eyes stayed riveted on the door to the room. "Slowly….DI."

Lestrade gulped once more before slowly, carefully, and quietly sat back on the couch. He didn't say anything as he doubted he could keep his tone as calm and quiet as Sherlock at the moment, so he just didn't say anything and watched the door as well.

"Don't…do anything." Sherlock continued to whisper as he kept his body still. He remembered what John would do if he dared moved towards the door when someone not approved by the Omega approached. He had made the mistake when he went to see why Mycroft had come during that first heat so long ago.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

"Stay…where you…are. Do not…give him…reason…to force you…to stay." He kept his tone even and calm and quiet. He didn't want to make this any worse than what it was about to get.

Though it had been funny when Mycroft had actually made the trip into the apartment despite John's Pheromones telling him it wasn't a good idea.

The scent of Donovan told him that the female Alpha probably wouldn't be able to resist the smell of the Omega as soon as she opened the door. This was about to get vicious and humorous to watch, but he also worried. John's leg and shoulder were already hurting into the second day of his heat. The man hadn't stopped moving since yesterday morning and he wasn't sure the other would have the strength to fight off an alpha.

He was about to find out.

"Don't…interfere." Sherlock warned with a glare at the DI, knowing the man would want to jump up and separate the two when it came to blows. "He could…very well…kill you…if you…do."

Lestrade nodded slowly, knowing that this warning was a rare gift. Normally Sherlock wouldn't interfere but he figured that it was very true if he was bothering with it. He would have to hold himself back though, because Donovan was a subordinate while John was his friend. Both meant something to him in one way or another.

Either way. There was nothing he could do but watched as the door opened to reveal Donovan.

221B Baker Street

A.N. So yeah, I decided to do an Omegaverse chapter. The next one will coincide with this one so, yeah, just so you guys know. Review and tell me what you thought either way! Can't wait to hear from you!


	14. Force

Chapter Fourteen

Force

The door swung open to 221B to reveal on Detective Donovan, her normally brown eyes black with how wide her pupils were blown.

Lestrade could only watch as the female Alpha walked into the apartment, her eyes instantly moving to stare at the Omega now standing in front of the couch, back to Sherlock and Lestrade.

He had been warned not to move, but surely they had to interfere. John was an Omega in Heat, so his body was much weaker than normal. It was made even worse when one took into account the obvious weakness of his shoulder and leg.

He doubted that John would be able to take on an Alpha, even one that was as tired as Donovan was.

"We have to do something!" He whispered harshly to Sherlock, eyes wide as Donovan closed the door behind her, locking it soundly. "She'll tear into him." Though it wouldn't be as harsh as if a male alpha was the one mating John, as the equipment that female alphas had were rather slim and delicate compared to males.

Sherlock just shook his head though, even as he kept his gaze locked on a snarling John's back. "We really don't want to get into the middle of this." Sherlock stated once more. "We would only get in the way and only more harm would come of it."

"What? But Johan is an Omega in heat…"

"And more dangerous than ever at this very moment." Sherlock interrupted. "He is ruled by instincts that have complete control. I don't know why they aren't like a normal Omega's, nor do I know what to do to fix it, but I do know how to act when he's like this." He'd had almost two years to figure it out at this point. He was not about to discount any of the experience he had gotten over that time just because the DI was going to get jumpy.

Lestrade was about to say something, but his head whipped forward when Donovan snarled back at the Omega, her own instincts telling her to dominant. She needed to get the Omega to give in to her so that she could care for it and make sure that it would not burn anymore. She had to care for it but to do that, she had to make it see that she was the stronger one, the one capable of providing, the one able to protect.

John snarled right back at her, straightening his spine as his arms came up, reading to snap out and hurt if he had to. This Alpha had trespassed and unlike the last one to enter into his territory, she was not welcomed. He wanted her gone and out of his territory. He wanted her gone so that he could continue to stalk and mark his territory, to make sure it was safe for him and those he allowed in.

He would not allow this Alpha to desecrate his territory and what belonged to him. He would not allow it to happen again.

So he snapped his teeth and swiped at her when she dared to come closer to him. He could smell the pheromones on her, the ones meant to calm and cull him into her presence. He refused to allow it. He had refused other alphas as well and he would not allow this one to do what others had failed.

He would make sure she knew this as well.

Donovan stalked forward, dodging a swipe to the face, and reached out with a hand to grab the omega by the wrist. She would pin him to the ground and show him who was in charge. Surely this Omega would wish to be taken care of just like all the others had been. She could do that, all she had to do was show him. He would appreciate all of her efforts in the end, even if he didn't at the moment.

But the moment she had managed to grab the omega by the wrist, he twisted his own wrist so that it was latched onto her before using his other hand to pull trap the limb in between both of his. He then proceeded to raise the limb up high into the air, twisted his body so that his back was to her, and then pulled with all of his might to send her flying over his head and then into the floor.

She laid there stunned and out of breath, trying to regain strength to retry to make the omega submit underneath her.

John roared in triumph, quickly grabbing the arm that hung limply and grotesquely at the alpha's side and dragging her to the door. He unlocked it hurriedly before grabbing the now kneeling alpha by the back of her shirt and tossing her out.

Lestrade could only watch with a hanging mouth as the omega kicked Donovan's ass and tossed her out like the morning trash. Like she was nothing compared to him.

"I've already texted Mycroft to pick the twit up and take her to the hospital." Sherlock informed calmly next to the DI. "She has a dislocated shoulder for sure, and I'm sure some more damage from being tossed down those stairs." He hoped she wasn't dead, otherwise John might actually be in some trouble, though he doubted Mycroft would allow that.

"Great." Lestrade nodded shakily as John locked the door fully before stalking over to the two men. Both endured the scenting, Sherlock getting licks on his neck once more, and then continued to watch as the Omega began to stalk around the apartment once more. "That was…"

"Rather entertaining." Sherlock finished with a smirk on his face.

Lestrade huffed as he laid his head on the back of the couch. "I was going to say terrifying."

"That too." Sherlock agreed a minute later before standing up and stretching. John paused where he was at the entrance of Sherlock's room, watching the alpha with narrowed eyes. Lestrade watched the Omega in worry, wondering if he would attack the curly haired man. "John, I'm going to heat some food up." Sherlock informed calmly, locking eyes with the omega, nodding in the direction of the kitchen.

John kept his narrowed gaze on Sherlock for a long minute before turning away and walking into the man's bedroom.

Lestrade could only sigh in relief as the consulting detective walked into the kitchen. "Do you have to tell him where you're going to go?"

"Yes, otherwise he gets rather agitated." Sherlock went through the freezer, pulling out microwavable meals. He didn't really cook very well, that was John's job, but when he couldn't cook, Sherlock would use the microwave meals as substitutes. Ordering out right now was not wise and so Sherlock didn't dare. Not since the chinses boy was almost blinded by John scratching at his eyes during a heat.

Lestrade nodded his head as he stood up as well. Instantly John's head was poking out of the bedroom to glare at the DI. "Um…"

"Tell him where you're going." Sherlock sent him a look over his shoulder.

"Um…" God this was embarrassing. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom, alright." He said and waited until he moved. John's eyes moved over Lestrade's body before he moved out of the bedroom and walked over to the DI. Lestrade stood still as the shorter man stopped at his side and looked up at him expectantly. "Sherlock?"

"He's going to follow you to the bathroom. He won't go in but he'll stand outside the door." Came the explanation over the sound of plastic rustling.

Lestrade nodded with a frown but ignored the echoing steps behind him the best he could. He closed the door behind him and quickly set to work. Once he was done, he opened the door, only to freeze at the hard look the Omega gave him. 'God, this is awkward.' He thought as the omega stepped up to him and sniffed at his chin for a second.

He prayed that he wouldn't get bit, but he didn't really know what to expect from John from some days when he was coherent, let alone stuck in his instincts.

He held still as John continued to sniff him before snuffling at his neck. Lestrade gulped as a long swipe of a tongue came next before the blonde stepped back and to the side, waiting expectantly.

The DI sighed in relief as he led the two of them back to the living room, where Sherlock had set three of the heated up meals on the coffee table.

Lestrade quickly went and sat next to Sherlock, who raised a brow at the growling Omega. "Sit on the floor there John." Sherlock instructed as he pointed with his fork.

John huffed as he looked around the room, walked over to the door and made sure it was locked, before walking back over to the table and settling on the floor. Lestrade winced, knowing that normally John wouldn't do such an act but it was apparent his instincts were the ruling factor here. He'd sit at their feet like an Omega but at the same time he was glaring up at them.

"Have you tried getting him to sit in a chair?" He questioned curiously as Sherlock, for once, had to prod John into eating his food. It was a twilight zone situation here as he had never thought he'd see Sherlock make John eat.

"Once. He refused by throwing the chair through the window." Sherlock rolled his eyes at the memory.

"Oh." Lestrade remembered that. It had startled him greatly to hear about that from Donovan. They had assumed it had been Sherlock during one of his experiments, but apparently they were all wrong about that. "Jesus Christ, he's that adverse to a chair when like this?" He waved his fork at the omega, watching as it caught his attention and those eyes followed the fork suspiciously.

"Yes." Sherlock waved a hand, gaining John's attention again, and motioned for the other to eat some more. John grudgingly did so.

Lestrade remained quiet after that, considering all he had learned that day and wondering if he shoulder launch an investigation with what he had found out. Especially if what he was considering was true.

"Whatever it is, is most likely wrong." Sherlock said as he pushed his plate away, having had enough. Apparently that was enough of a signal for John to stand up and continue his pacing of the apartment.

Lestrade glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes before returning to watching John walk around. Now that he was looking for it, he could see the slick slide down John's thigh in a steady stream that was getting much bigger. "You said he won't initiate sex." He stated, he didn't bother asking.

Sherlock's gaze snapped up from his phone to the detective. This was moving back to their conversation before Donovan arrived.

"He's acting differently than a normal Omega in heat due to a trauma." Lestrade continued as he watched the Omega. He ignored the bulge in his pants from the smell and sight of the heat in progress. He wouldn't hurt his friend like that. "Not to mention he completely rejects an Alpha when they try to dominate and initiate sex themselves." The sight of Donovan getting owned was horrifying and amusing all at once.

"What of it?" Sherlock questioned. It was obvious Lestrade knew exactly what was wrong with John and with the way he was acting, it was a very not good thing.

Lestrade sighed and rubbed at his eyes before removing his trench coat. It was very apparent that he wasn't going anywhere and so he didn't need it. Once the coat was off and set to the side though, it was swept up into John's arm and shuffled off into Sherlock's room. He hoped very much that he would get that back, it was one of his favorites. "There's only one possibility that I can think of that would match his behavior at the moment."

Sherlock watched and waited, knowing that Lestrade was building up the courage to explain what it was. With the sweat building on the brow, the twitching hands, and the firm frown on the other's face, it wasn't anything good. In fact, Sherlock had the feeling that it was a very, very, very bad thing.

"The only reason why an Omega would act this way at all would be because they were forced into mating with an Alpha under duress."

Sherlock stared at the detective for a long silent moment, hardly acknowledging that John had returned to the room, stalking around it with that growl and snarl back on his face.

"Rape, is what you meant, correct?" Sherlock looked to John with wide eyes and a pale face. The possibility had never even occurred to him because of how strong John was, but if he had been weakened beforehand and had no ability to stop it…than yes…it was very possible.

Lestrade nodded his head. "Yes, rape."

221B Baker Street

A.N. I'm sure some of you saw that coming, right? Just curious. Anyways, review and tell me what you all thought. This chapter goes with Ch. 13! Remember to review! Until next time!


	15. Nest

Chapter Fifteen

Nest

Neither man said anything for a very long time. The dishes from dinner still sat in front of them even as John's stalking seemed to get worse by the hour. The sun was setting and soon they would be left with the night ahead of them.

Lestrade thank god that he was divorced from his wife and that his kids had chosen to stick with the cheating wench than him. This way he wouldn't have to worry about them since he didn't want to find out what would happen if he tried to leave the apartment right at the moment. He had a feeling that it wouldn't be very good.

"I'll track them down." A growl ripped out of the man next to the DI. The said DI quickly scooted away from the consulting detective, recognizing that aura and the pheromones pouring off of him. He really didn't want to die at the hands of this man.

He also felt a little sorry for the bloke that had harmed John in anyway. Especially since there was laws protecting Omegas against forced Heats and forced shared heats. If the Omega did not consent before they went into a heat, it was considered rape, plain and simple.

If someone forced a heat and forced an omega to share that heat against their will, there was trauma left behind. Because despite all the documentation and research into heats, not all Omegas wanted to have sex during them. Some just wanted to curl up around something warm against their stomach, have a mate spoon then and hold them, and just sleep through it. If someone went against that, the Omega knew it wasn't what they wanted despite their biology saying otherwise and were traumatized, affecting all the rest of their heats for as long as the trauma lasted.

Some Omegas never healed and so never mated for the rest of their lives. It was a sad thing but there was not a whole lot anyone could do when this happened as it was all up to the Omega to get through it.

"Make sure to make them suffer." Lestrade stated a bit after, hating that his friend had been harmed in such a way, but hoping that one day he would be able to get over it.

But this also explained why John never actually kept a relationship with anyone. If you couldn't share a heat with a mate and have them accept it for what it was, then it would never workout.

Maybe John would meet someone someday, but until then, he would be stuck just like this.

"I will. Though you'll have to pretend I didn't say anything. Don't want a conflict of interest or getting you wrapped up in this." Sherlock gruff out.

"No problem there mate." Lestrade settled against the couch, both he and Sherlock watching John pace the apartment with new eyes and a new sense of protection roaring in their chests. Neither would allow this man to be hurt further if they could help it.

221B Baker Street

It had become rather late and Lestrade had started yawning an hour ago. "Will I be able to sleep without him freaking out?" He questioned around another yawn.

Sherlock was silent for a long moment before sighing and standing up, instantly John was right there with narrowed eyes, slick sliding onto the floor as he had refused to allow Sherlock to clean him up for some time now. "Nest." Sherlock stated with a tilt of his head. It wasn't a question, more of a statement but it had Lestrade raising an eyebrow.

John's stance changed instantly though, relaxing and a soft smile laced his lips. He stepped forward and Sherlock allowed him to scent him against, lapping at his neck for a good few minutes before he turned to Lestrade and began to scent him. He held perfectly still for John, grumbling when he felt that tongue pass over his neck once before stepping back and walking towards Sherlock's room, stopping outside of it to look at the two Alphas over his shoulder.

"Come Lestrade, if he's going to get any sleep, then we must go and join him." Sherlock explained as he motioned the man to follow.

The DI just sighed and followed the two into the room, stopping in astonishment as the bedroom came into view.

The bed had transformed since the last he had seen it. Clothes of both John's and Sherlock's were placed just so to make a ring around the bed, closing it in. In the middle of the little ring was Sherlock's trench coat, one of John's ratty jumper, and Lestrade's own trench coat. John was already in the bed, directly in the middle of the bed. Sherlock had shucked out of his pants and pulled on his pajamas pants and a t-shirt before climbing into the bed behind John, his own back pressed up against the Omega's.

Lestrade looked at the sight for a long moment, unsure of what to do. John was staring at him with those narrowed eyes, flicking in the lamp light next to the bed. "Get comfortable Lestrade, if you need you can borrow one of my shirts." Sherlock called over to him.

Lestrade sighed as he realized what he was going to have to do to make sure they all got some sleep. With that in mind, he shucked his own pants and shoes and socks, letting them fall in a corner of the room. He pulled his dress shirt and tie off next, quickly picking a shirt that had been left on the floor and put that on. He looked over at John, who whined low in his throat as he wiggled against Sherlock's back before basically kneading the empty spot in front of him.

This was going to be awkward, he could already tell. Not to mention he was going to have to call into the office sick and let them know that they'd only be able to talk to him and Sherlock over the phone for a while.

With that thought in mind, he climbed into the nest, showing his back to John and faced where the lamp was. "Can I turn the light off?"

"Yes. John will do the rest."

Lestrade sighed at that and reached over, turning the light off. As soon as the light was turned off, he felt John move behind him and then what felt like a blanket being pulled over him, settling just over his shoulders.

Then he felt John shuffle close up to his back and sniff at the back of his neck for long seconds before the movement stopped. The breathing evened out and then all was silent. "Sherlock, am I really going to be stuck here until his Heat is over?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Though you are the third person he has allowed into his territory when like this, so I would suggest taking that as him liking you quite a bit."

Lestrade blinked at that before sighing and slumping on the bed fully. He could still feel John pressed up against his back, his hands fisted into the back of the shirt while his nose was shoved up against his neck. He knew that he had a strong scent for an Alpha, only ever being out done by the Holmes brothers, and could attract any Omega he wanted. Though he found this specific Omega snuggling up to him rather odd.

It didn't help that the pheromones were still strong and he had a hard on that he could do nothing about. He groaned as he shifted slightly, allowing his dick to lay against his thigh a little more comfortably despite being trapped in his boxers.

"Thank you."

Lestrade jerked at the whisper, humming to calm the whine that came from John at his sudden movement. "Whatever for?" He questioned.

"Any other alpha, Donavan for example, would have forced him to submit." Sherlock explained.

"Good thing we're not just any alphas." Lestrade shot back with a smirk. He knew that Sherlock had always had a fierce control over his instincts, but so did Lestrade. He had to in his field of business. He couldn't after all jump an omega if they're heat was stress induced.

Stress.

"Hey Sherlock, John was shot while deployed, right?" He questioned, his mind running quickly.

"If you are thinking that after John was shot and shuffled off to a hospital, where he proceeded to go into a stress induced heat, then I've already thought of that. Texted Mycroft the details, he's looking into it."

Lestrade could only lay there amazed at how quickly the Consulting Detective's mind ran, but then again he should be used to it by now. "Good, then night I guess." He would have to get comfy seeing as he would be sleeping here with the other two for quite a while.

Ah well, it would be a nice break from Anderson and Donovan.

221B Baker Street

A.N. Alright. Three chapters in one day! That's awesome. This goes with Chapters 13 & 14\. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Review and let me know! Until next time you guys!


	16. Starting Pokemon

Chapter Sixteen

Starting Pokemon

It all came to simple truth for him.

His family had no money.

They could hardly pay to feed their little family or put clothes on their backs.

Let alone feed a Pokemon that could keep him company and for them to grow together.

John knew this simple truth and he understood it. Though it didn't stop him from envying Harry, his older sister, who had taken off on her own Pokemon journey as soon as she had turned twelve and she had gone and got a partner for herself. Though why she had chosen a Glameow was beyond John as he knew that the next evolution was rather ugly.

He had just turn thirteen and he was eager to get his own Pokemon and start on his own journey. He would take one of his father's empty Pokeballs and go. He wouldn't turn back, just like Harry, and move on with his life. He didn't need to stay here in the shack that his family lived in, just barely making ends meet due to lackluster jobs his drunkard of a father would take and the street work his mother would do to bring money in.

He'd leave as soon as he got that Pokeball.

His father was currently passed out on the couch and his mother was out working the streets. This would be his only chance for the day and if he missed it, then he'd have to wait a day or two to try again. Something he really didn't want to do.

So with that thought in mind he tiptoed into the living room. He had his shoes in hand, a backpack on with all of the essentials and things he didn't want to leave behind. He wore his dark green cargo shorts and long sleeved white shirt to survive the warm nights of summers of Unova.

Just like he thought, his father was stretched out on the couch, snoring loudly and one hand falling to the floor with a beer bottle in his hand. But John didn't care about that at the moment. No, he was more interested in the bag of Pokeballs his father had stashed off to the side, stolen from the nearby Pokemart to be sold for some petty cash.

John smiled as he snuck by his dad and got to the bag without a problem. He looked at them with wide eyes as the bag opened easily. He had thought his father was only taking normal Pokeballs but no, there was great balls, premiere balls, dark balls, fast balls, timer balls, and ultra-balls. They were all here.

He glanced over to where his father snorted in his sleep before moving so that he was on his side facing the back of the couch. He fell still and John wasted no time in taking several of each Pokeball, leaving enough that it wouldn't be noticed.

This way if his first catch wasn't successful he wasn't screwed afterwards. He'd have several chances on catching a Pokemon and then hitting a gym. If he won against a Gym leader than he could earn a cash prize and from there a badge. The more battles he won as well the more likely he was to get more cash.

He smiled happily as he ran out of the house, not once looking back to the home that hadn't really been a home. He was free for once in his life.

Pokemon!

He spent several days just walking away from his hometown, sad to see it go but also happy that the town was located not too far from the first gym. He had lived in Nuvema Town where Professor Juniper had her base of operations. Not that anyone really paid attention to anything that happened in the town, especially since she would report any new findings in Castelia City where the TV Station was located.

He shook his head as he looked around the area that was just outside of Striaton City. He had run past Accumula Town hurriedly as his mother could have been there looking for some of her regulars. He didn't want to risk running into her. Now he was wondering around the forests and grassy areas looking for a companion on this journey.

He had run into the normal types Lillipup and Patrat, along with the dark type Purrloin. None of them had really spoken to him and so he had skipped them over.

He didn't want to start off with a normal type like his sister had settled for, no, he wanted something that had a bit of a kick to them. Feisty and ready to battle but also ready to relax and enjoy the sun on their skin or fur or scale or whatever they had. He wanted to be comfortable around them and them with him. So he would keep looking, even if he had to skip over the first gym to find the perfect partner. He wouldn't rush it even if it meant going a little hungry or getting a little dirty until he had money to pay for a hotel room or until he could get to a Pokemon Center.

With that thought in mind he continued to wonder through the forest, quietly sneaking by a Beedrill nest and then crawling through the bushes as a pair of Zebstrika charged at each other, flames and lightning flashing all over the place.

IT was only when he was outside of Striaton a couple of days later that he found a partner.

Or they found him as they bowled him over covered in flames.

John screamed in fear and pain as the ball of flames slammed into his chest, sending him flying backwards. He landed against the ground and rolled several feet, the now none fired Pokemon rolling away from him.

Once he had come to a stop, John looked down with a grimace, taking in the fact that his shirt was ruined and that he had was seemed to be almost a sunburn with little blisters littering here and there. He grunted as he twisted slightly to get a look at the Pokemon, only to blink at het golden fur of what seemed to be a Growlithe.

"Wow." He muttered as he got onto his hands and knees to crawl over to the other Pokemon, taking in the cuts and scrapes that the Pokemon had. It was obvious that it had been battling. "So pretty." He muttered to himself before shaking his head and laying his hand tentatively on the Pokemon. "Hey, can you hear me?" He shook it carefully, ready to rip his hand away from the fire type if necessary.

The Pokemon grunted as it raised its head up, bright blue eyes staring at the boy in confusion and panic. "Wait." John whispers as he raised his hands to show he wasn't a threat and took a step back. "You're injured. Let me help." He waited patiently as the Growlithe watched him.

Those blue eyes met with his own blue eyes and they watched each other for what seemed a long moment.

John's body moved on its own when a crack of a twig came and his body covered the injured fire type without a second thought just as a blast of water came shooting out of the forest. "What's your problem kid?" A teenager sneered as he walked out of the forest, an umbrella in hand and an Empoleon at his side. "You trying to steal a Pokemon that I've been chasing for quite a while now? If you wish to have it so dearly than maybe you should battle me for it."

John grunted as he looked over his shoulder at the obviously stronger trainer and Pokemon. "He was running away from you, which should have told you that he doesn't want to go with you." He glared at the older teen, trying to figure out a way to get out of there. His best bet would just be to run for it with the Pokemon in his arms. That way he could get it to a Pokemon Center for it to be healed and then he could release it back into the forest.

"It does not matter. Pokemon are to be caught and then trained to become stronger." The teen explained as he twirled his umbrella. He wore black slacks with shiny black shoes, a white button up shirt and one of those fancy suit vests. His red hair was slick back out of his face and John could catch a hint of stubble. His blue eyes were like ice, lacking any warmth in them for either John or the Growlithe shivering beneath him. "Just like I trained my Empoleon to be the strongest."

"Yeah, but you can't do it against their will! You need to make sure they're willing to be by your side or it really isn't a true partnership!" John shouted as he gathered the Growlithe in his arms and against his chest. He crouched so that his body was bent over the poor tired Pokemon. "Forcing one into being your Pokemon could end up in nothing but hate and them turning on you."

The teen tilted his head at this before looking at the Empoleon who shook its head. He turned back to John and looked at the Pokemon in his arms. John didn't follow the older teen's eyes and instead kept them on the water type. If there was any real danger, it would be from it and nowhere else.

"This really isn't worth the time or effort." The teen finally decided as he pulled out a pocket watch, checking the time, and then clicking it shut along with a click of his tongue. "It seems we have run out of time as well. We will just have to go with the options we have. You may keep that Pokemon boy."

John blinked in surprise as the teen turned and walked away with the water type following behind. He was surprised that the other had left him alone so easily but didn't dwell on it as he stood and took off for Striaton. He had to get to the Pokemon Center.

Pokemon!

"You got here just in time." Nurse Joy said with a smile. "Too much longer and this poor Growlithe would have been permanently damaged."

John sighed in relief at this information as he leaned against the counter. "That's good to know. When do you think I'll be able to return it back to the forest?" He questioned next, little droplets of water falling from his hair still.

"It'll be at least a day. It took quite a bit of damage from those water attacks." She explained as she motioned for him to follow. He quickly did and they wondered back to where all the operation rooms were located. In one of them was the golden furred Growlithe, covered in a heated blanket and an IV attacked to one of its shaved paws. Then there was bandages that covered its body, hiding injuries that hadn't quite healed yet.

"Can I sit with him?" He watched the sleeping Growlithe, wondering if he would be really okay or not. He didn't want to leave him behind just in case and wanted to stay by his side. "Just for a little while?"

Nurse Joy almost cooed at the big ole Lillipup eyes that the boy used and couldn't say no. "Of course, go on in, I'll let you know when it's time to leave. I'll even have a room ready for you to stay in."

With that she opened the door and the boy wasted no time in setting himself next to the fire type. He watched it breathe for what felt like days but was only hours. He would move and twitch and snuffle and bark in his sleep, making John chuckle and giggle and laugh.

He had no idea when he fell asleep, only that he had dreamt of running along a path with a yellow furred Pokemon with bright blue eyes.

Pokemon!

He groaned as something snuffled his hair. He turned his face away from whatever it was but then he felt something wet slide against his nose and forehead, jolting him awake. "Ugh!" He groaned as he rubbed at his face to remove the wetness. He scrunched his face up and rubbed at his eyes before opening them to stare at bright blue eyes. "Oh, hey there!" John greeted as he looked around the room.

He was still in the operating room, a blanket settled over his shoulders, and a clock off to the side reading eight in the morning. He must have slept through the rest of the day and night next to the little fire type. "Looks like you're okay now." He said as he looked back at the little Growlithe. It wasn't very big now that he looked at it. About the same size as a Lillipup, which was much too small for a normal Puppy Pokemon. Not to mention the strange coloring of its fur and eyes.

The Puppy Pokemon barked as he sat up straight and puffed up his chest proudly, just like all of his species did. John chuckled and then giggled as the Pokemon snuffled and licked his face again.

"Oh, seems like you two are having fun." Nurse Joy interrupted the two with a small smile on her face. "And it seems that you are fully healed now. So let's get you unhooked and released." She said to the fire type. "Did you sleep alright?" She questioned John next even as the rest of her attention stayed on the Pokemon.

"Yeah, I did. Though I could have gone to a room, I know the rules so it wouldn't have been any trouble." He said as he rubbed the back of his head. He knew that most Pokemon Centers would have trainers go to their rooms after a certain amount of time. He hadn't wanted to break that rule or get the kind nurse in trouble.

She just waved a hand to brush away his concerns. She made sure to finish removing the IV before releasing the little Pokemon entirely. "All done!" The bark of excitement had John giddy in his own excitement as well. He couldn't believe how excited they all were about this. "Now then, you'll need to eat more, alright." She held up a scolding finger at the Pokemon. "I understand how hard it can be out in the wild but food is important."

The Growlithe whined before looking over at John with wide eyes that gleamed in the lights. The boy blinked in surprise even as the Nurse giggled. "What?" He questioned the creature in confusion. "What is it?" He looked to the nurse for an explanation.

"It seems that this little one would like to go with you." She explained gently as she patted the Pokemon on the head. "Will you allow it to join you on your journey?"

John blinked and then looked at the Pokemon with a wide smile on his face. "I'd love to have you with me." The Growlithe jumped up into his arms licking at his face happily as he giggled at the ticklish feeling.

Pokemon!

He was so bored!

His studies were boring.

His teachers were boring.

His parents were dull.

His brother wasn't home and out gallivanting around with his stupid water type. Something he himself wished he could go and do, but he had just barely turned ten not even a few months ago and he had wanted to leave for his journey right away. Just as Mycroft had done so seven years ago.

Only his parents had said no. He was to wait until he brother returned with appropriately appraised Pokemon to choose from.

That had supposed to have been three months ago but his brother had not returned. When his mother had called to ask, they were told that he was currently tracking a Pokemon he felt would do well with Sherlock but it was being difficult. It would take time to track it down and catch it.

Apparently this Pokemon was rather intelligent, more so than even Mycroft was and that was saying something.

His brother was highly intelligent and was already placing himself among the officials of the Unova Region. He was placing himself in positions of power, it would take time to fully build upon and take over, but it would happen. A Holmes always got what they wanted in the end.

Now though, Sherlock just wished his brother would hurry up from whatever city he was in at the moment and give him his Pokemon. He wanted to leave as soon as humanly possible. He was hoping it would relieve some of his boredom and maybe even gain some more experience in the art of deduction he so desired. After all he wanted to be the first Consulting Detective in the world, but that would take time. To build up his credibility as a detective and to gain connections.

He could not wait for this, for all the interesting cases he was sure were out there. He wanted to solve these murders and he could wait.

Sherlock is knocked out of his thoughts when the mansion he lives in shakes viciously. IT continues so he knew it wasn't an Earthquake, natural or induced. It wouldn't have lasted as long as it did. With that thought in mind he stumbles over to window to look outside, blinking at what he saw.

A massive sandstorm was roaring outside of his house. It was thrashing viciously against the walls of the mansion and from his window, Sherlock could see several of the Giritina statues chip and fall apart from where they were stationed along the roofs. He looked down and saw several of the bay windows on ground floor were shattered.

It was an immensely powerful storm and Sherlock knew that it had to be a powerful Pokemon attacking.

A perfect partner for him when he left this place.

He smirked as he quickly ran over to his bed, stumbling along the way due to the continued shaking, and pulled out a dark purple box. It wasn't very big, about the width of his hand and three inches tall. He opened it and smiled down at the bright red ball. A special Pokeball that his mother had crafted for him and told him to only use on the most special of Pokemon.

He grabbed the Cherish ball and ran down the halls as fast as he could and down to the front doors of the mansion. All the windows on the first floor were blown and all the Pokemon struggled to move through the sandstorm coming through the windows to stop whatever Pokemon was attacking. All the humans were huddled into corners or rooms blocked from the storm, not willing to risk coming out and getting injured, recalling their Pokemon as they became too heavily damaged from the storm.

Sherlock moved through it as if it wasn't there. He didn't feel the sand against his skin or the wind whipping around him. it was as if the storm wasn't there to hurt him at all and he quickly ran out of the mansion, ignoring the yells and cries of his parents and servants to return and hide. No, he couldn't hide, not at this moment. He could afford to appear weak at this point.

With that in mind he sped up his pace and ran through the storm, hoping he would meet with this Pokemon if he just kept running. He could see where it could be and so he had no clue what it could be as there were too many Pokemon out there that could use Sandstorm.

He yells out in surprise when suddenly the storm twists and turns around him, centering on him in a twister. He can only stare in awe at the control and power it would take to such control over the move. He had only seen veteran Pokemon Trainers and their Pokemon able to do this and most wild Pokemon would lose control and the move went wild. Not now though.

He watched as the sand twirled around him and make shapes and patterns, leaving him to gasp in complete adoration for this Pokemon even before knowing what it was. They were powerful and the control…oh Arceus the control was a wonder all of its own.

It could have been all day or a week for Sherlock, just standing there and watching those patterns come into creation, only to be wiped out and form new ones, but like most things it had to come to an end.

A spectacular end.

The sandstorm burst apart and fell around him softly. As if falling snow that would cover the earth in a pureness that only few knew.

His eyes though are drawn to a shadow that is moving closer to him through the falling sand. It was the size of a Houndour and held a strange shape to its head, like a reaper's scythe almost. He watched as the creature came into view and he could only stare at the bright ruby like eyes in awe and curiosity.

An Absol had come to his home. A Pokemon told to have the ability to predict destruction and misfortune.

He gulped in amazement and anticipation. An Absol would be the perfect companion to him and his goals. To be the greatest consulting detective in the world and an Absol would help him find those ever interesting cases.

He pulls out his Pokeball, the thought that this Pokemon should be the one to reside in it was nothing but obvious. He would forever _cherish_ this Absol because he knew that it would stand next to him through all the _disasters and chaos_ that was obvious meant to come for him. That was the only reason he could think of for _Disaster_ Pokemon to come.

"Will you stand at my side as my partner?" He asked it as he held out the enlarged Pokemon and waited for the decision. He would not force this Pokemon to come with him if it didn't, but he dearly wished it would.

The Absol's face was blank for the longest moment before a smirk fell on that black face and those ruby eyes gleamed with a sense of excitement. It walked forward and nudged the middle of the ball with its nose before disappearing into it in a flash of red.

Sherlock smiled as he looked down at the Pokeball as it stopped shaking and pinged, signaling a successful capture. He doesn't wait a second though as he released the Pokemon, so as to have it walk beside him. "I do hope we can work well together." He said to the Pokemon as he laid a hand on its flank.

The Absol nods its head at him and the two return to the manor to be greeted by the smiling Holmes parents. It was obvious they were proud of the choosing of the Pokemon and trainer. They say nothing but their love for him and their wish of wellness as he takes off into the world for his journey.

Sherlock doesn't even care that he meets his brother just on the edge of Castelia City a week later and is given his second Pokemon. Sherlock is just happy to have Pokemon at his side to travel with and to start on his own reputation as a consulting detective.

He would become one of the best, with Absol at his side, there was no other option for him.

Pokemon!

A.N. Haha! Another one done and ready for you all to read and review for me. I know that the choice of first Pokemon are rather cliché for these two, but really, the fit them perfectly. A loyal firetype for a fiercely loyal and feisty soldier and an intelligent and chaos prone dark type for a genius and danger prone detective. It couldn't be anymore perfect in this way. I'll probably do more oneshots for this line of thinking but I don't know when. I have another oneshot in mind next as a tribute, so I plan on writing that out. Until then though, review and tell me what you think of this! I can't wait to hear!


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